[ with his face grabbed, his simple methods of nodding or shaking his head are now both out of commission. there’s no damage to his face beyond sickly pale skin, and even the set of his jaw is enough for keen eyes to tell he doesn’t have the excuse of not having a tongue. the problem runs deeper, spiritual, and impossible to explain. ]
…
[ even preferring peace where he can find it, dextera can only let himself be pushed around so much. still averting his eyes, with a nervous darting that looks more neurotic than shy, he finally puts up the barest defense in the form of pushing at rovan’s wrist. the delicate touch belies his physical strength—he’s holding back, as if afraid of touching rovan, anyone, with his own hands.
it is, however, something. his frown deepens and he hopes it’s enough. ]
no subject
…
[ even preferring peace where he can find it, dextera can only let himself be pushed around so much. still averting his eyes, with a nervous darting that looks more neurotic than shy, he finally puts up the barest defense in the form of pushing at rovan’s wrist. the delicate touch belies his physical strength—he’s holding back, as if afraid of touching rovan, anyone, with his own hands.
it is, however, something. his frown deepens and he hopes it’s enough. ]